


coda

by tnevmucric



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Love, M/M, Post Game, Slice of Life, goro ann and ryuji living together, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnevmucric/pseuds/tnevmucric
Summary: goro akechi’s life, after.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro & Persona 5 Protagonist, Akechi Goro & Sakamoto Ryuji, Akechi Goro & Takamaki Ann, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 18
Kudos: 128





	coda

Goro goes quiet, then says: “It feels like—”

Goro goes quiet, and says: “Sometimes I think—”

Goro goes quiet.

Goro says: “I’m waiting for everything to go wrong.”

* * *

It took them four hours to sand down all the rough spots the plaster left, and even then there are still cracks in the skirting, some water stains that keep coming back no matter what they do, and the plants on the balcony had died so many times that Haru took matters into her own hands and confiscated plants away from them completely. And then they’d struggled with paint colours. Ann favoured the idea of an accent wall while Ryuji insisted accent walls were a monstrosity to the renovation regime, and Goro wasn’t yet caught up enough on Property Brothers to know what the right answer could be.

(They decided on an off-white, like most people do.)

For a while it was unnatural, Goro wasn’t used to so much sound. He was coaxed into staying up at 2 AM even when he had a lecture at 7 just so Ann wouldn’t be alone while watching the astrology channel. Ryuji had accosted him into being his gym buddy which upset Ann because she didn’t like being alone in the apartment which made for very loud Tuesday morning jogs. Ann liked to sit by the arm-rest of the couch, but so did Ryuji, so Goro often found himself on the middle cushion with both of them falling asleep on his shoulders.

(If it so happened that Goro was the one to fall asleep first, he’d wake with his face mashed against Ann’s thigh and her fingers tangled in his hair, his feet in Ryuji’s lap while he tapped out a random tune on Goro’s ankle.)

Where Haru donated and effectively removed plants as a house-warming gift, the others had differed.

Matching, hand knit-scarves from Yusuke.

(Badly knit-scarves from Yusuke, warm nonetheless.)

A plushie similar to Morgana, communal, from Futaba.

(Which no one claimed to touch, but which somehow always ended up in Ryuji’s bedroom.)

Towels from Makoto, and an employee discount card for the corner store down the street that Ren slid over with an inconspicuous shrug.

(Both gratefully used.)

When Goro asked sometimes, why Ann and Ryuji decided to ask him, of all people, if he wanted to split an apartment with them three-ways, he’d get the same two responses:

A lopsided grin, a ruffle to his hair. “Why not?”

A roll of the eyes, an elbow nudge. “Alright, why don’t you go put 100 yen into the self-pity jar.”

Goro didn’t think it counted as self-pity if he truly didn’t understand why they invited him into their lives so intimately. But...

But there was a laminated, home-made cook book tucked away in the kitchen—Sakamoto secrets, with sharpied-in Takamaki classics, and one pancake recipe Goro knew like the back of his hand. There was the couch that came with the apartment that was too small for eight people, but just right for three (it’s okay, they rotate on movie night). There was Ann’s rampant candle obsession, Ryuji’s magnet collection, and Goro’s self-professed habit of leaving every single cupboard door open. Their favourite spatula was one egg-flip away from breaking and every morning at 6 AM on the dot, Ryuji would rap his knuckles down the hallway, effectively waking everyone else up.

There was a home.

* * *

Ren slides his jacket over Goro’s shoulders, pulls the collar forward to cover his neck. It smells newly washed, with a detergent-freshness that burns his nose. It’s a little too floral for his liking. 

* * *

Goro had tried to deter them from the one-bathroom apartment—he really had.

“Can I borrow your concealer?”, Ann asks as she takes it. Goro is busy drying his hair and Ryuji is too focused on singing his heart out under the shower spray.  


Some nights when Ryuji’s out or otherwise occupied, Ann will convince Goro into sharing a bath. They overfill the narrow tub with bubbles and drink weak wine from mugs they got half-price because of a manufacturer’s issue which made all of the handles a half-inch small. So they drink in sweet-smelling water with sweet-smelling wine and with their pinky fingers in the air, gossiping and complaining until Ryuji eventually pokes his head in and tells them it’s time for dinner. These nights are some of Goro’s favourites.

(Other than, perhaps, the one and only time Ryuji attempted to re-dye his roots. He has since given up his pledge to bleach-blonde beauty.)

* * *

Goro’s teeth get sore, sometimes.

Goro wake some mornings with the fear his teeth are going to fall out.

Goro dreams his teeth crystallise, become translucent, fall and fall and fall into his hand—it’s like spitting out hard candies, the flavour of his last dinner. It should be as easy as breathing, but breathing isn’t easy so much as it is a natural occurrence. It’s supposed to be like treading water or seeking warmth—survival instincts we don’t think twice about.

It is as easy as riding a bike, then.

Goro doesn’t ride bikes anymore.

This is life after death.

Goro is too tired to brush his teeth, sometimes.

* * *

“Goro”, Ren said with a warmth, with a soft tilt of a smile, with a beckoning hand that he stretched out. “Come back to bed.”

* * *

Ren stayed over most Thursdays. Ann would be out with Shiho and Ryuji would be out like a light—the apartment would be quiet, and Goro found Ren was good at filling the empty space.

He makes breakfast for everyone in the morning, though. And then there’ll be four people struggling to do their hair in the bathroom mirror.

Those Friday mornings are for therapy. When he’d finally gotten around to scheduling his first session, he remembers practicing his introduction in the mirror for days. _Goro Akechi, Goro Akechi, Goro Akechi—_

he thinks he lost himself somewhere along the way. 

He’s not sure he wants to find himself again.

And his doctor asks: “Who would you be if you could be anyone else?”

“Someone good”, Goro replies, because Goro does not believe he is at all good.

* * *

“This is a lot of food”, Goro said hesitantly, that first night they ate in their apartment where friends and family flooded the floors and Ann had found a way to blu-tack fairy lights to the ceiling, lighting everything anew.

“It’s not”, Ryuji’s mother replied, smiling gently. “It’s just a full plate.”

* * *

Ren’s hand is a warm reminder in Goro’s back pocket. Goro watches him laugh and talk casually with Haru, one elbow on counter, hair tousled by the wind, and he’s stricken again about how he’s managed to get here. When Haru turns to fix them a take-away bag, Ren looks bemused.

“What?”

Goro doesn’t know how to say how much he loves Ren. He shakes his head, _nothing_ , and Ren pulls his hand from Goro’s pocket to tuck his fringe behind his ear.

“I love you”, Ren says, because Goro does need to be reminded. Goro tries a smile.

“I know.”

* * *

Ann sits between his legs, diligently still as he braids her hair. Ryuji complains about the suitors on this years’ Bachelorette, and feeds Goro a quarter of his tangerine during the ads.

* * *

“I’m smart”, Ren says sometimes, standing in their kitchen in nothing but his underwear, making three coffees and one mocha, hold the coffee ( _“Ryuji just ask for a hot chocolate.”_ ) “I mooch from elderly men who feel guilty about locking me up in a poorly-ventilated attic for a year. And who left me in jail.”

“Incorrect”, Goro will comment from behind the daily crossword. “You put yourself there.”

“And you’re here all the time”, Ann adds drily.  Ren grins.  


“Goro’s banned from sleeping over at Sojiro’s, you know that. Dad rules.” He considers this, adds: “Also Futaba’s rules. She’s sick of hearing our powerful love-making.”

“I am, too”, Ryuji says from the floor, where he has now mastered a complex yoga-pose. 

“Goro, back me up.”

Goro takes an absent swig of coffee, taps his pen against the crossword. “What’s a four letter word for ‘a concluding event, remark, or section’?”

* * *

Are you ever so alone that sounds start to become friends and thoughts announce as antagonists might and your life just feels like one day after the next, one day after the next, one line after this line, one day after the next—

* * *

“You love me”, Ren grins, all glazed eyes and wet hair, sheets twisted over his shoulder. “You’re gonna love me forever.”

Goro thinks: Yeah. Yeah.

* * *

The love Goro feels screams inside of his body. It bangs against his rib cage like something incarcerated and changes the taste on his palate with every word that arrives there. The love Goro feels wants to be known, to be heard, and no amount of prevention could change that.

* * *

The smell of fresh fruit and raw batter loosens the fear in his stomach, and the short smile Ren greeted him with when he shuffled in made him want to _fall, fall, fall._

Ren didn't press for conversation when it was just the two of them. He kept working, moving easily around Goro who stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, arms hugging his chest. The smell of food would surely wake the others up soon, but for now it was quiet. Ren flipped another pancake (dark chocolate chip, extra vanilla) and came to face Goro, gently prying his arms apart to step between them. 

Goro closed his eyes against Ren’s chest, flattened his palms beneath Ren’s shirt, soaking up the warmth of his lower back. Ren kissed his temple.

"You want to talk?" he asked.

Goro held onto Ren tighter. “Yeah.”

Ren nodded but didn’t pull away. “Let me just turn off the stove.”

Goro clamped his arms in front of himself again, trying to look calmer. “We can talk later, I don’t want to interrupt breakfast.”

Ren turned off the stove anyway.

"How about we talk now”, was all he said, and Goro closed his eyes again.

Ren would let him go if Goro really wanted to, and Goro admits that he got himself into this situation. Sometimes the needlepoint in his mind is too sharp, too fine to ignore that he just has to let it out, even if it leaves him with a bruised feeling in his mouth. A feeling that asks: _will you get sick of me quicker?_ A feeling that questions: _how haven’t you gotten sick of me yet?_

Ren pries apart his arms again. The kitchen is warm. The coffee is brewed. The crossword is waiting in Goro’s chair and the blanket from the lounge is slumped over it, because Ren knows Goro gets cold in the morning.

Goro’s voice says: “I’m afraid that I’m not enough.”

Goro’s voice says: “I feel like I’m using you. I’m not... I’m not good for you.”

Ren stares at him. Really stares. 

Goro’s chest hurts. He rubs his eyes uselessly—

“What?”

“I don’t know how you could have missed this”, Ren begins slowly, “but I love you.”

“I know”, Goro replies and Ren leans closer, moves his hands to settle on either side of Goro’s face.

“I love you”, he repeats. “I don’t say it enough.”

But Ren calls to say it. Ren texts it. Ren traces it onto his hand while they wait in line for coffee and Ren plays games where he tries to convince Goro that their love is written in the stars, and he’ll raise his pointer finger up and write the words out for him. Ren probably says it too much.

“I know”, Goro says once more, and reaches up to squeeze Ren’s fingers. Down the hall Ryuji’s yawn is heard, followed by the thump-thump-thump of his knuckles against the wall. The knot in Goro’s stomach lessens, just a little. “I love you, too.”

* * *

“Do you still want to be that person?”

“I’m not sure.” He stops. “I’m not sure how to answer, I mean.” He stops again. “I’m just tired.”

“And what about your friends? Your family?”

Goro woke up last night to find out that Ann and Ryuji had been incrementally shoving their pillows in the freezer to keep them cool.

“They help me forget even when I know what they know about me. I appreciate that. I really do.”

* * *

“Things can be certain”, Ren reminds him, kissing the pad of his thumb. “You’ve got to believe that they are.”

“Do you?”

“Yes”, Ren touches his cheek. “Yes.”  


_This is certain_ , he says. _You and me._

Ren will be there tomorrow to remind him, for that Goro is sure. Ren will be there next Friday at the end of his last lecture holding two takeaway cups of coffee and a bag with one croissant inside. Ren will show up every Thursday with a lazy grin. Ren will go around shutting cupboard doors and—

* * *

And: open your window when you wake up.

And: change your pillowcases bi-weekly.

And: take the time to put on your shoes.

And: there will always be love in you.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!
> 
> — tnevmucric.carrd.co


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